


Everyday Magic

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Swifty has a few tricks up his sleeve.





	Everyday Magic

It was hard to surprise Skittery, even first thing in the morning. He’d had plenty of time to get used to Kloppman’s stomping and shouting, and the occasional half-hearted slap when even that failed to rouse him. Lately, he’d also been getting used to the idea that every once in a while Tumbler would get to waking everybody up even before the old man, and when he did, it would be with shouts of _He came! He came! It’s Christmas again and Santa came!_

It wasn’t Christmas. It was one of those hot mornings in August where the sun got up bright and early out of sheer spite, just so it could have more time to roast them all. The lodging house was buzzing with mosquitos, and just about everybody was sweating buckets. Still, Tumbler was screaming about Christmas for the second time that month and the at least the fifteenth time that year, and so Skittery was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk, to see what Swifty had gotten up to this time.

The “tree” was some kind of an uprooted bush with red berries on it. The ornaments were ladies’ earrings, a lot of them, each one shinier and more gaudy than the last. As for the gifts, there were three, all wrapped up in newspaper with ribbons made out of twine. Skittery could just make out snippets of old headlines, as he came up to stand behind Tumbler.

“Lookit ‘em all!” Tumbler was practically dancing with excitement. “I must be the best kid in the whole world, huh? For Saint Nicolas to come by so much.”

“Open 'em up, why don’t you?” Skittery said. “And don’t let all the attention go to your head. Santa hasn’t brought me nothing after all.”

“It’s 'cause you smoke in bed,” Tumbler said. Some of the other boys were starting to clamor out of bed now, to crowd around Tumbler and the tree. Out of the corner of his eye, Skittery saw Swifty disappear into the washroom.

“It’s because he doesn’t wash his feet every morning,” Jack piped up.

“Or his armpits,” Race added, waving his hands theatrically in front of his face. “Santa don’t like guys with bad hygiene.”

“That’s why I never get any gifts,” said Snipeshooter, who was famously proud of how rarely he bathed. “You gonna open them or what, pipsqueek?”

Snipeshooter’s remark was just a little belated, as Tumbler was already well into tearing open the second of his gifts. He paused just long enough to make a fist at Snipeshooter, before ripping apart the paper to reveal a little bundle of oranges, one of which he jammed right into his mouth, peel and all. The first gift was a pencil and a little pad of drawing paper. The third was a pair of tiny socks, which Tumbler scowled at, and threw to the side unceremoniously, for Skittery to pick up and pocket.

Footsteps on the stairs. Mush grabbed the blanket off his bunk and tossed it over the make-shift tree. A bunch of the other boys dove back into bed, jammed their eyes shut, and began (zealously) to snore. The only ones left in the center of the room by the time Kloppman came in were Skittery, Mush, and Tumbler. Skittery gave Mush a hard shove. He’d understand.

“What business do you got dragging people out of bed first thing in the morning, huh?” Skittery scowled at Mush.

“Maybe… Maybe you was… um… keeping me up with your snoring.” Mush glared half-heartedly in Skittery’s direction. “You keep it up, and I’ll make you sorry you was ever born. I’ll make everyone sorry you was ever born. Oh! Hi there, Mr. K!”

Mush smiled brightly at Kloppman, who had just about been ready to come between them, and went to his bed to get his clothes for the day.

“Snoring!” Kloppman clicked his tongue in disapproval, even as he turned away to wake the other boys. “Being sorry you was born!” he muttered under his breath, because as a rule, nothing could go wrong without Skittery being to blame, even when Mush was the one pretending to pick stupid fights.

From there the morning went on as mornings usually did, with Kloppman waking the other fellows up, and all the chaos that went with fifty guys trying to get ready for work all at once. Seeing that Itey had grabbed Tumbler and started some sort of game with him, Skittery took advantage of the time afforded to him, grabbed something out from under his pillow, and darted into the bathrooms in search of Swifty.

The other boy was standing in front of the mirrors brushing his teeth, with wet hair, and a shirt that had been shredded down the left sleeve. There was a delicate gold chain glinting around his neck, but it was barely visible, and the pendant that hung from it had been hidden under his shirt.

“Christmas gift.” Skittery handed him a bottle of whiskey. Swifty pocketed it, smiling broadly around his toothbrush.

“I don’t believe in any of the crap,” he said. He spat into the sink. He stretched out his long arms, cracking his knuckles.

“Thanks to you, somebody does.”

“He’s only little, y'know?” Swifty sat down on the edge of the sink, so he was facing Skittery. “Maybe now’s the right time to let him get some good things here and there, so he don’t turn out like us. Besides, it’s funny.” The room was starting to mill up, other kids milling around them everywhere, so that what was meant to be a quiet conversation came out as almost shouting.

Skittery decided to ignore the like us comment. He wasn’t sure what he and Swifty really had in common, aside from being too tall and too jaded. “Where do you get off fooling a little kid?” Skittery demanded instead.

“Do you have any idea how many people I had to fool to pull this off?” Swifty continued to grin. “It ain’t about fooling Tumbler. It’s about making him happy. And maybe…”

Skittery raised his eyebrows. He leaned on the counter by the sinks, right next to Swifty’s knees.

“Do you trust me Skits?” Swifty asked.

Skittery a shrugged. Then he nodded. “Sure,” he said, albeit warily. “I trust you as much as I does anyone else.”

It didn’t seem like a good answer. It wasn’t regular, and it wasn’t comfortable, which wasn’t to say that Skittery wasn’t comfortable with Swifty. He just didn’t know what to make of presents and grand gestures, which seemed to be all that Swifty did, interspersed with fits of aloofness that could last for weeks on end.

“We’re pals,” Skittery said.

“There!” Swifty pushed himself off the counter. “That’s some Christmas magic right there. That’s some everyday magic.”

Swifty didn’t say anything else on the subject, but bounded off, to continue his preparations for the day. As for Skittery, he was left wondering if he’d just told somebody something they’d needed to hear, or if he’d made a fool of himself. Maybe he’d even managed to do both at the same time.


End file.
